Anarchy in the Phantom Verse
by SerasenWind
Summary: Anarchy, noun: 1. a state of disorder due to absence or non-recognition of authority. 2. absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual, regarded as a political ideal. 3. that ghost who keeps pranking Walker.
1. Table of Contents

Anarchy, noun: 1. a state of disorder due to absence or non-recognition of authority. 2. absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual, regarded as a political ideal. 3. that ghost who keeps pranking Walker.

* * *

This is going to be another set of loosely connected oneshots, so below is a timeline for those of you who want to go in chronological order. And, because this series involves a rather . . . unique original character, below that is a bit of exposition. Feel free to read it - or don't. It shouldn't be necessary to understand the story, but if anyone's curious, it's there.

* * *

Table of Contents

1\. Endless Possibilities

2\. A Nice Place To Live

3\. Bad Manners

* * *

Hello readers - my name is Anarchy.

I'm here today because the story you're about to read might be a bit confusing without background. Since Seras asked me nicely (and also 'cause it's fun), I'll be your guide to the amazing world(s) of Archetypes.

Now, I can guess what you're thinking - 9th grade English class, right? Something along the lines of this:

archetype

noun

a very typical example of a certain person or thing.

(in Jungian theory) a primitive mental image inherited from the earliest human ancestors, and supposed to be present in the collective unconscious.

Those definitions are technically correct, but they're not quite what we need here. Let's try this:

Archetype

noun

a member of the Archetype race.

a spirit-like being portraying and endowed with the aspects of a set concept.

. . . Yeah, I wrote that entry myself. Cut me some slack - I'm not done explaining yet.

Anyway, as you may have guessed from my name, I am an Archetype. We're basically literal personifications of our concept. As I once told a dear friend, "we are what we personify, and we draw power from what we are." Take my brother Havoc, for example: he can disassemble objects by staring at them (with his scary eyes of intimidating DOOM).

What, me? Well, I have the ability to choose what laws apply to me at any given time. Say, for example, the laws of gravity and momentum. I could get all scientific about it, but I doubt anyone wants to hear that. The important part is, I fly!

So, back on track. Archetypes. Some of us are more powerful than others, but we have a few things in common. Call them racial characteristics, if you will.

One: Archetypes are immortal. We can be put out of commission, sometimes indefinitely, but we cannot truly die (except by Chuck Norris).

Two: Archetypes have two levels of invisibility. Level one makes us invisible to the average human, while level two will hide us from mystical beings and the spiritually perceptive. Neither level, however, does much against cameras or other surveillance devices.

Three: Archetypes have variable appearances. In other words, what we look like can shift depending on a culture's collective imagination. We have a base or true appearance, but we also have the option of locking into a culture's subconscious and using that image. (Don't get me started on Chaos and the ancient Egyptians . . . . *shudder*)

Four: Archetypes are linked to their concept. The stronger a concept is in the world, the stronger that Archetype is. Conversely, if an Archetype is injured, their concept will lose strength. (Chivalry isn't dead - he just lost a duel around the end of the Middle Ages.)

That's about it for Archetypes as a race; let's move on to what we do, or rather, where we go.

We do have our own dimension, but most of us like to be out and about with the mortals. (More fun, less bored, usually less trouble.) What makes it really awesome is that there's not just one world out there - there are thousands of worlds, thousands of parallel universes, and they've all got something that makes them different. Weird as these places may get, they all have the same foundational concepts, which means we can visit without our powers malfunctioning.

So, what does all of that mean for the story? Well, this is the tale of how I met the Master of Time and stole a ghost's hat . . . .


	2. Endless Possibilities

The parade of time goes airborne.

* * *

Deep in the Ghost Zone, in a tower built of clock pieces and gears, the master of time floated before a large, circular screen. The image in its depths was of a green-haired teenager surrounded by the eerie glow of the ghost world, but the teen himself was not a ghost.

Clockwork sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Another Archetype had wandered in.

The time master was of mixed opinions regarding the Archetypes. As a whole, they fulfilled their roles well, but tended to have an unpredictable effect on the worlds they entered. Some were all but uncontrollable. Some reminded him a little too much of the Observants. Clockwork could never decide which were worse: the chaotic ones, or the boring ones.

Judging by the way the boy on the screen was darting around like a squirrel on Speed, he was one of the former.

Clockwork twirled his staff, opening a portal into the Zone. The best way to deal with Archetypes was to send them back where they came from - preferably, _before_ they damaged anything. Mere seconds later, the time master materialized directly in front of the intruder.

The boy appeared startled, but recovered quickly. "Hello!" he said with a disarming grin. "Hope I'm not trespassing - I don't actually know where I am."

Clockwork raised an eyebrow. "This is the Ghost Zone, Archetype."

The boy froze for a second. "Huh. It's not everyday someone just _knows_ what I am."

Clockwork smiled. "I know everything."

The Archetype gave him a measuring glance. "Right. And you are . . . ?"

"I am Clockwork, the master of time."

"For real?"

The ghost nodded solemnly. "For real."

"Why isn't _our_ Time that cool?" the Archetype muttered.

Clockwork concealed a smile. That last part was obviously not meant for his ears, but was heard nonetheless.

"So. The Ghost Zone, huh? Looks like fun."

Clockwork frowned. "I am afraid you cannot stay here. Your kind bring trouble wherever they go. As the protector of the time stream, I cannot allow it."

The Archetype stared. "That's a bit harsh."

"Nevertheless, I must ask you to leave."

"Wait, you're kicking me out? Of an entire dimension? You can do that?" The Archetype's pitch rose with each question.

"I can."

". . . Is that a law?" A smirk hovered around the boy's lips.

Clockwork gave him a look. "I take it you have ways around such things."

"Guilty as charged." The Archetype tossed him a two-fingered salute. "Concept of Anarchy and all that."

"Of course." Clockwork folded his arms. "It couldn't have been one of the boring ones."

Anarchy laughed. "Nah, they don't travel much." His expression sobered. "In all seriousness, though, I'm not here to cause trouble. I've never been to a ghost dimension - I just want to do a little exploring." The Archetype grinned, eyes shining.

Against his will, the time master found himself swayed by those eyes. It had been years since he had seen such curiosity and honest excitement. Clockwork sighed. The boy's intention appeared to be sincere; the issue lay in whether he could maintain it. "If you stay, you will follow my directives."

Anarchy hesitated, then nodded decisively. "Agreed."

"Good. In that case, there are a few things about this dimension you should know."

~o0o~

Back in his citadel, Clockwork shook his head as the Archetype flew off. As soon as he had agreed to let the boy stay, the number of possible futures had increased exponentially. It would not be inaccurate to say that the future was now, in a way, infinite. He had mused occasionally that time was like a parade, one he had always viewed from above. Now, it was as if that parade had gained the power of flight.

Considering how gravity tended to malfunction around this particular Archetype, perhaps the metaphor was apt.

~o0o~

"Hey, Havoc?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you make me glow in the dark?"

". . . What?

* * *

 **So yes, I'm doing another of these. Because Anarchy. Anarchy everywhere.**


	3. A Nice Place To Live

Ghosts exist. Anarchy takes advantage.

* * *

Anarchy hummed as he flew through the Ghost Zone toward a glowing portal. Like everything else in sight, it was green and vaguely swirly. Unlike everything else, it was rimmed in metal - obviously man-made. He had reached his destination. The Archetype faded into invisibility and drifted through.

On the other side, he was greeted by a mad scientist's paradise. Strange mechanics and glowing green stuff was everywhere, while blueprints and glassware were scattered across the counters.

Anarchy shook his head. If Havoc could see the state of the place, he would probably scream.

The lab appeared to be empty, which suited the Archetype just fine. According to Clockwork, the people who lived there were ghost hunters. Considering he had come from the Ghost Zone, avoiding them was probably a good idea. _Especially_ considering his latest disguise.

Anarchy grinned down at the chain around his neck. Havoc had modified his Archetype Tag; the lightweight device now had a "nightlight" setting. In short, Anarchy glowed in the dark - just like a ghost. The white hair and pale skin he had given himself only enhanced the impression. (He really should do something nice for Change - the ability to manipulate his own coloring was the most useful power-share he had.)

Anarchy gave the lab one last glance before flying up the stairs and out of the house. From what he had been told, Amity Park was used to all kinds of supernatural events. One more glowing, flying teenager wasn't going to make much of a difference.

Anarchy smirked. He was going to have fun here.


	4. Bad Manners

Anarchy exchanges words with the local Phantom.

* * *

Amity Park, Anarchy reflected, was a strange place. Putting aside the eye-assaulting architecture that was Fenton Works, all the buildings had a strange purple tint to them. If he didn't know better, he would think the Ghost Zone was leaking out into the real world.

The Archetype was coasting, invisible for the time being. He wanted a look around before risking any confrontations. His disguise was good, but in the end it was just that: a disguise. Going intangible was not part of his powerset, and the last thing he wanted was to catch an ectoblast to the face.

. . . It was really weird being on the low end of the power scale for once.

Roughly an hour later, the Archetype landed on the roof of a tall building downtown. He had a decent sense of the town now - enough to keep any quirks in the layout from blindsiding him if he had to beat a hasty retreat. Anarchy slipped back into the realm of visibility, raising the hood of a short, dark cloak. The top half of his face vanished in shadow. Aside from a slight smile, the only hint of his features remaining was the faint green glow of his eyes.

If he was going to impersonate a ghost, he was going to be a theatrical one. Dramatics were fun.

~o0o~

He wasn't surprised it was a ghost that found him first. He was a little surprised it had taken so long. Eventually, though, the Archetype found himself suddenly face-to-face with a floating, white-haired teen.

He didn't look happy.

"All right, I've had a really crappy day, so why don't you tell me who you are and what you're doing before I dump you back in the Ghost Zone with all the other troublemakers?"

Anarchy blinked. "Well, hello to you too. I'm doing great, thanks for asking."

The ghost scowled. "Like I said. Really. Crappy. Day." Green energy gathered around his fists. "So unless you want to be stress relief, I suggest you answer my questions!"

The Archetype gave him a flat stare. "Anarchy. Exploration. Are you always so antagonistic?"

"Huh?" For a second, the ghost looked taken aback. "Hey, it's usually you guys attacking me first!"

"I haven't moved in an hour."

"Yeah, well - ghosts hate me, okay? You tend to assume the worst when half the population's trying to put your face through the pavement."

Anarchy tilted his head to the side, examining the glowing, floating, non-human figure. " _Ghosts_ hate you?" He shook his head. "Nevermind. I'm not here to break anything. Except physics."

"Really," the ghost deadpanned. "Then I guess you won't mind if I come along and make sure of that."

Anarchy shrugged. "Suit yourself. Can I at least get the name of my escort?"

The ghost narrowed his eyes, then sighed. "Danny Phantom."

"Charmed," the Archetype said. It was only a _little_ sarcastic. He kicked off the roof, rising to match the other's height. "Phantom, then." Anarchy flashed a smirk usually reserved for escapades in thieving. "Hope you can keep up!"


End file.
